


Deafening Silence and Entrenching Ashes

by Heavenlea6292



Series: If You Wanted a Nightmare, You Came To The Right Place [1]
Category: Silent Hill (2006), Supernatural
Genre: Badass Sam Winchester, Body Horror, Gore, Season 3, Separated Winchesters, Violence, i dont even know, just after 3.03 sin city, worried big brother dean winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:11:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenlea6292/pseuds/Heavenlea6292
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester's visions lead him to the hills of West Virginia- where two women and a young girl have disappeared into thin air it seems, just outside of an abandoned town called Silent Hill. There's a lot of history and a lot of lore surrounding the place- and maybe, whatever is controling the happenings around the place, can help get Dean out of going to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one in a tow part series in which the Winchesters end up involved with the events of the Silent Hill films. I am a huge fan of the franchise and I got into the games when I watched the movies. However, I was furious with Revelations- not because it was closer to the videogames in a way, but because it retconned and screwed with the original film's continuity when there was so much potential. So, I've blended the games and the two films into what I would've liked to have seen in these two fics- and then, I added a healthy dose of Winchester. Because I can't help myself.

“So get this- got a just filed police report here- three missing persons outside of an abandoned ghost town Silent Hill.”

 

Dean looked up from his breakfast, raising an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that Sam would want to take a break after their whole ordeal with the Special Children a couple months before- not to mention the rat race they’d been on for the past two months since the Hell Gates opened- but he was wrong, he supposed. He took a huge bite of his pancakes, chewing thoughtfully.  
“Why do the towns with the creepy names always have the cases,” he mumbled around his food, “It’s like, ‘oh look, a town with a creepy, ominous name. Let’s live there honey, it must be such a nice place!’ Jesus. Don’t people have any common sense?”  
“Yeah, well. Common sense just isn’t so common anymore,” Sam replied, pushing a napkin towards Dean, “Dude, wipe your mouth, you’ve got syrup everywhere.” Dean made a face, swiping the napkin and rubbing his face clean. Three people missing wasn’t exactly that strange, as they had come to find- even in weird disappearance cases, more often than not, there were perfectly normal cases of humans being…well, humans. Not exactly heartwarming, but still- not exactly their problem, either.  
“Anyways, three people went missing- what makes it sound like our kinda thing?” Dean asked, swallowing the food in his mouth and reaching for his coffee, “People go missing all the time.”  
“Well, besides the fact that they disappeared outside of an abandoned ghost town that the locals believe is so haunted that not even local kids go check it out on dares…” Sam said, giving him a look, “They found the car and a motorcycle sitting there like they’d both been parked. Untouched, undamaged, the doors open. But no trace of the cop, the woman, or her daughter.”  
“Sounds spooky enough. Tell me more.”  
“The woman, Rose DeSilva, was apparently taking a road trip with her daughter Sharon when they were pulled over by Officer Cybil Bennet of Braham’s police department. She began to call it in when Rose hit the gas and sped off towards Silent Hill. Then, nothing. After Officer Bennet didn’t check in or finish her report, the other on-duty officer went looking for her- and found the car and the motorcycle.”  
“How long ago was that?”  
“Uh…report was filed about 6 hours ago. So, I’m betting it happened last night,” Sam replied, picking at his nails nervously.  It wasn’t a lie, per say. It just felt like one.

Dean nodded, throwing some money down on the table with a glare. It wasn’t like he was angry with Sam for wanting to work a case, but he was a little irritated that he went to sleep in North Carolina and woke up in West Virginia.

“So, this little detour into the heart of West Virginia wasn’t just for fun. You knew something was going on here, that we had a case.”  
“I might’ve.”  
“And how did you get that information so fast?”  
“I might get notifications from the missing person’s database.”  
“Might?”  
“Why are you pissed?’ Sam asked, “You said we want cases, well, here’s a case.”  
“I didn’t mean that I wanted- Jesus, Sam. I wanted things that sounded like you know, demony. Not…this.”  
“How do we know it isn’t Demon mojo?” Sam demanded, closing his laptop, “I mean, there’s a whole bunch of crap about this town that’s just…really messed up.”  
“Demon messed up?”  
“As a matter of fact, yes-well, sorta. There were two different cults in the town.”  
“Okay, backwoods hillbilly cults.”  
“One of which worshipped an angel.”  
“Okay, just to point out that an angel isn’t a demon- they’re kinda opposites.”  
“And the cult wanted to bring him, the angel, to earth as a god.”  
“So, cult worships evil angel, wants to bring him to earth, that’s what you think this is about? Maybe these missing people are the cult trying to summon a big bad demon?”  
“Maybe, just… listen.”

Sam opened his laptop again, pulling up a series of documents on his computer. He’d done a lot more research than he had let on while he was eating.

“Both cults had a lot of influence in the town.  The Order wanted to bring about the birth of the God through some ritual called “The Immolation of the Mother” with a girl as a sacrifice- a specific girl, actually. This girl.”

Sam turned his laptop around, giving Dean a view of a dark haired little girl in a sepia toned photograph, “But the other cult, The Brethren, believed that the child was sin incarnate, and had to be purified with fire to stave off the wrath of the God.”  
“So, one thought she was Mary, the other thought she was Lucifer,” Dean said, “Well, this is getting warmer and fuzzier every second.”  
“Basically,” Sam said, continuing, “Everything I can find seems to point to the idea that though both cults were based on the same general religion, they went in completely opposite directions. The Order seemed to be pretty nihilistic when it came to things- no right or wrong, just chaos and order. But The Brethren are almost …puritanical. Sin is evil, sin must be punished severely.”  
“Right, okay?”  
“Fine, I’ll get to the point,” Sam snapped, “So, this girl’s mother was part of the Brethren, and she had an illegitimate child who she wouldn’t reveal the father of. 9 years, they treated this kid horribly, all because her mom had her outside of marriage and didn’t reveal a father, and they deemed her a witch. Then, it all comes to a head when the Brethren take the child to the hotel in the center of the town to purify her.”  
“Purify- you mean, they burnt a little girl alive?”  
“Yeah. Something happened, though- a few chains snapped on the grate that was holding her over the coals, and it started this fire. The mother went to get the police but it was too late- I mean, the girl, she was alive, but her entire body was burnt horrifically. She was rushed to the hospital, and according to the papers, a few weeks later, she succumbed to the injuries.”  
“But that’s not the end of it?”  
“No- A mysterious fire started in one of the Brethren’s churches, the same day the girl supposedly died. Torched it to the ground with most of the cult inside it. But, I guess Silent Hill is on a massive coal seam, and somehow…it caught on fire. The whole place went up in flames, and no one has been there since, not regularly at least.”  
“And that happened in…”  
“1974.”  
“So what the hell does that have to do with now? You know, 2007? 33 years later?”  
“I’m getting to that!” Sam replied, “People around here say that weird stuff has always happened around there, since the fire. Animals freaking out when people drive past the turnpike exit, people saying they hear noises echoing across the hills that sound like screams, a siren that doesn’t belong to any of the local fire stations going off at odd times, a weird fog that never seems to disappear, even when it’s raining-“  
“Yeah, that’s cause you said the place is literally on fire underground! It’s not fog- it’s smoke!”    
“But what if there is something weird going on? Shouldn’t we at least check it out?”  
“I just don’t feel like this is our sort of thing, Sam.”  
“We’ve gone on less before!” Sam argued. Dean sat back, giving him a weird look.  
“Why are you so hell bent on this, Sammy?”

Sam looked down, biting his lip. There was an unspoken ‘no more talking about the powers’ rule that he knew he had to honor, but unfortunately, this was all about them.

They had been driving through Tennessee, Sam taking his turn napping while Dean drove, when it happened.

 

The images weren’t consistent, shaky flashes of things: a cross like symbol he couldn’t name, a handprint with the word witch inside it, a little girl in a bluish dress floating in midair, her arms outstretched and engulfed by fire. And a sign, surrounded by fog, as a woman walked along the road- Welcome to Silent Hill.  
   A little girl’s whisper: _“Look at me- I’m burning.”_

 

He woke up and whipped out his journal, scribbling down everything.  
“Whatcha writing there, Hemmingway?” Dean asked.  
“Nothing,” Sam mumbled, “Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe Dean should’ve worried about it- because not hell nor high water was going to stop him from going to Silent Hill and finding out what happened to those women.

“I need to find them.”  
“Find who?” Dean demanded, “These chicks you don’t even know? I mean, I get it, we’re both conditioned to do the whole saving everyone we can thing, but I just don’t think you’re right about this, Sammy.”  
“It doesn’t matter that I don’t know them!” Sam exploded, “We save everyone we can, right? I just…trust me on this, Dean. We need to do this.”  
“What, is this one of your…vision quest things? I thought they stopped?”  
“It’s not like that-“  
 _(It was exactly like that)  
_ “-I know that if it is something demonic, we can take it out-“  
 _(He had no idea if they could)_  
“-and I can’t let them just disappear without looking. If not for the women, then for that little girl.”

Dean stared at him hard, rubbing his mouth.  
“Sammy, listen…we haven’t got time to go poking around in this hillbilly hellhole. I’m sure the cops have it handled-“ Dean began, only to be cut off.  
“When do the cops ever have it handled, Dean?” Sam demanded, “Seriously, name a single time they actually know what the hell they’re doing.”  
“We have bigger fish to fry-“  
“I know that, I do. But if there is something…supernatural, going on up there, whatever it is has got to be packing some major mojo. And maybe…we can get it to help us.”  
“Help us with what?”  
“What do you think, Dean? You’re gonna die; get dragged off to hell because you sold your freaking soul! Maybe, whatever the hell this is, has enough knowhow or…mojo, or whatever, to get you out of this deal!”    
“Sam…you ever considered that maybe I don’t want out of the deal?” Dean said quietly. Sam sat back, looking flabbergasted.  
“What the hell does that mean?” Sam hissed. Dean sighed, tapping his ring on the tabletop.  
“I mean…I fulfill the deal, you get off scot-free. I go to hell where- let’s face it- I should be already if it wasn’t for Dad, and you get to have a normal life…or whatever.”  
“Have you had cotton stuffed in your fucking ears for our whole lives, Dean?” Sam demanded, “There is no normal life. There are no happy endings, not like other people. Like, I want that, I do, but not nearly as much as I want you to be alive!”  
“Well, it’s not your decision!” Dean snapped right back at him, “It’s mine. We’re gonna find a motel, take a nap, grab a shower and then we are going in the opposite direction of this freaking place.”  
Sam slammed his laptop shut, shoving it in his bag with a bitch face to break records.  
“Fine.”

But it wasn’t. And Sam wasn’t about to give up just yet.


	2. A Path Less Taken

Sam laid in bed, intending to only shut his eyes to appease Dean, but the vision he had in the car and all the driving had really taken it out of him. His mind was a blur of thought and He felt himself drifting off to sleep, his mind slipping into unconsciousness…and it seemed, into another vision.

 _He was sitting next to a little girl, in a classroom, somehow fitting in the tiny little desk, as other girls surrounded them._  
 __ _They all wore the same blue and purple dress uniforms- some with red ribbons tied around their peter-pan collars in little bows, other with the ribbons tied in their hair, all chanting menacingly._  
 _“Burn the witch! Burn the witch!” She had her hands clasped over her face tightly, curled against the hard surface of her desk as they threw their notebooks and pencils at her, the chanting growing louder and more warped, until it sounded like screaming- pain, terror filled screaming. He looked down at the little girl as she sat up fully, staring down at the desktop as tears slipped down her face. He felt something whiz past his ear and looked up, watching as all of the books and items that had been thrown at the girl whizzed around the both of them through the air, and the girl’s breathing grew labored._  
 _He could see the words that he had seen before- witch, a thousand times, scratched into the surface of the wood and darkened by red and black crayons dug into the valleys. His fingers hesitantly ran over the wood, only to feel her small fingers on the back of his hand. He looked up and met her eyes._  
 _“Help me…”_  
 _Suddenly there were flashes of a burnt body on a seal- a seal that had the same cross-like emblem he had seen in his last vision. Then, smoke. Screams. The little girl’s portrait in a room, engulfed by flames._

He sat bolt upright, his chest heaving and sweat dripping from his forehead. He mopped his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, looking over at Dean with a loud sigh of relief. His brother could sleep like the dead sometimes- and he suddenly felt a shot of panic run through him. One day, soon, he would be sleeping like the dead. Because, he’d be dead- unless Sam could figure out a way to get him out of his deal.

He picked up his journal and pencil, sketching the picture of the little girl while it was fresh in his mind from his vision. He didn’t know what was happening, but this little girl was the girl they burnt, and she was the one who had at least some part in what was happening.  He pulled away the pencil, looking down at his handiwork with a satisfied smile.

She was a pretty little girl, wasn’t she? Part of him thought it was weird that he had thought that, but another part of him felt it was as natural as could be, oddly enough. Like thinking that this little girl was cute and nice was what people should’ve already thought of her.  He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time they had met a little girl who wasn’t a ghost or a demon or a crazy hillbilly murder child. He actually couldn’t remember a time, not since he was a kid himself, that they met a little girl that wasn’t trying to kill them both- and even then, most of them were trying to kill Dean. Always was a heartbreaker, his brother.

He looked over at Dean, rubbing his lip as his hand absently scribbled across the page of his journal. As much as he wanted to know why this place- and this little girl- was calling him, he hoped that there would be some answer to saving Dean in those hills. Whatever made three humans just disappear into thin air had to be packing some kind of serious mojo, and maybe that mojo would save his brother. He had to at least try.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked down at what his hand had scribbled, blinking hard.  It was a monstrous…humanoid creature, with a large pyramid hand and a beefy body, and Sam could feel a chill run down over his spine as he saw what had come from his hand onto the page. Even on paper, it looked like a horrific mass of brute violence and strength. He shuddered, snapping his journal shut and rubbing his face. Was this the thing that took the women? Was this the demon The Order wanted to bring to earth?

He knew he was already getting in too deep-he knew more about this case going in than he’d ever researched on any other case. He was engulfing himself, in just a few short hours, into the case as if it were personal- but Dean was right, in one way. He didn’t know these women, or this child. He just knew, inexplicably, that he was connected to them somehow.  Maybe…maybe the girl that The Brethren had burnt was one of Azazel’s special children? Maybe, unlike him, her father had gone into the nursery and had met an untimely fate. Maybe that was why she was thought of as a witch- but everything had been so meticulously documented in this person’s blog. Photos, sketches, theories. In fact, the only thing he hadn’t found was the name of the girl, or the name of her parents. No names.

 

He looked over at his sleeping brother once more, noting with a hint of satisfaction that he had not budge from his earlier position- a sure sign that Dean was pretty deeply asleep. He snapped his fingers loudly from his bed, waiting to see him flinch but getting no response. He whistled, low at first and then piercingly high, but Dean still didn’t move.  
“Dean.”  
No response.  
“Dean…”  
No response.

Sam got up from his bed and leaned over Dean’s bed, waving his hand an inch from his brother’s face, breaking into a grin.  
“Guess you’re down for the count, huh?” Sam asked jokingly, his voice just barely above a whisper, “I’m gonna take the opportunity to ask you if you mind me going to and checking out Silent Hill. Just…lay there quietly if it’s okay.”  
Much to Sam’s surprise, Dean let out a sleepy huff as he rolled on his side. Sam shook his head, setting his jaw as he grabbed his things.  
“Fine, close enough,” he muttered. Leave it to Dean to tell him no, even when he was asleep and just supposed to be laying still and quiet like a normal sleeping person. Sam hefted his duffel over her shoulder, stuffing his journal and pencil in his pocket before casting one more look over at his brother. He turned the knob and sighed. He didn’t feel great about this whole sneaking out while Dean was asleep thing, but it was the only way he was gonna be able to get at least something to get Dean to stay and investigate this. He knew there was something going on- it wasn’t just the visions, he just had this feeling in his bones that there was something big up there, and he needed to find out what the hell it was and what the hell it wanted.  
“I’m sorry Dean…but I gotta do this, okay?”  
Nothing.  
“I’m doing it for you-well okay, not all for you. But mostly. Okay, at least half.”  
Still, silence.  
“You know, I think this is the first time in the history of the world that I would really like for you to talk back.”

Dean mumbled this time, the sound sounding close to “Sammy”, but not close enough for Sam to abandon his plan. He sighed loudly, closing the door behind him gently and looking around the motel parking lot for any car that he could hotwire. He may’ve been crazy enough to disobey Dean and go check out Silent Hill, but he sure as hell wasn’t crazy enough to take the Impala. It was bad enough that he was gonna get the ear beating of the century when he got back if Dean was awake- he didn’t want to get his ass kicked too for putting his Baby in peril.

He finally spied an old jeep off at the far end of the parking lot, frowning. It wasn’t exactly his first choice, but in a jam, it’d have to do. He flipped down the visor, shaking his head at the stupidity of people- it wasn’t a great idea to keep your pare keys inside your car, and yet people seemed to do it incessantly. He shrugged, figuring it’d be a good lesson for the owner- besides, he planned on leaving it somewhere easy to find, if not right back where he found it.

He slid inside and cranked the vehicle to life, swerving out of the parking lot and heading down the road towards Silent Hill. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, trying to shake the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he wasn’t exactly going into a place filled with sunshine and rainbows, but he figured this wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before, and he had a bag jam-packed full of everything he needed to ward off whatever evil mother fuckers were lurking up there. Even with tha knowledge, he still felt a twinge of fear. What was he getting himself into?

He made it to the turnoff, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. Silent Hill, where he needed to go. He drove up the turnoff slowly, prepared to run into some manner of police, but it seemed that a fog had desended from nowhere, an dthere was no barricade blocking his way. He drove across the bridge and around the bend, marvelling at the fact that he could barely see.

Until he saw a child walking in the middle of the road.

“Oh, fuck!” he yelled, jerking the steering wheel hard. The jeep spun out, and suddenly his whole body was being tossed around until he slammed his head, and the world went black.


	3. Don't Trust The Cross

He groaned loudly, sitting up fully in his seat.  
“Fuck,” he moaned, rubbing his head, “Shit.” He pulled back his hand, expecting to see blood, but saw nothing. In fact, when he flipped down the mirrored visor, he didn’t even appear to have a bruise on his head. He was no worse for wear, which freaked him out- he wasn’t exactly a superhero, but it usually would take a lot more than a little bump on the head to knock him out- especially if that knock on the head never even left a freaking bruise. God, if Dean found out he’d never hear the end of it.

 _Fuck._  
Dean was going to absolutely murder him.

He leaned forward, looking up at the sky with a twinge of fear. The fog was heavy and thick, and if Dean was right about it being smoke, he’d probably be dead from all the chemicals in a matter of a half hour. But that didn’t really make sense- if it was hurting him, wouldn’t he feel something? Dizziness, light headedness, difficulty breathing, a burning sensation, anything- but it felt no differently than the air at the motel, or the air on the highway. It was just….horrifically foggy. And, it appeared to be snowing. But that also didn’t make sense- it was freaking August, for Christ’s sake. The only place that gets snow in America in August that he could think of were the Rockies, if you got up high enough. Even then, those were about as rare as finding a needle in a haystack. It couldn’t possibly be snowing- not in August, not in West Virginia.

He stumbled out of the car, dragging his bag out with him and cursing as he clutched his arm. He was caught in the middle of the weird fog, wrecked a car he freaking stole, smacked his head, and god fucking damn it- it felt like he pulled something in his arm again. He huffed loudly, blowing his hair from off his forehead. _Yup. Dig a grave for me now, I’m gonna be dead when my brother gets his hands on me._

He looked up at the sky, trying to figure out the snow- it wasn’t less than 65 degrees out there- a kinda mild temprature for summer, but definitely not cold enough for snow. It wasn’t until he felt some fall across his cheek that he realized what it was. He pressed his finger to it, smudging it across his cheek and looking down on the matching smudge on his fingertips.  
“Ashes,” he muttered, “It’s not snowing, it’s ashes, genius.”

That would make sense, seeing as he was driving to a town that had been burning underground for 33 goddamn years. He sighed, trying to take stock oh his options. He could turn around and start walking back to the highway, hitch a ride and head back to the motel- Dean would never know he was gone, and he could just put this whole thing out of his mind. Or…he could pick up his bag and do what he set out to do. The longer he stood there, the more the second option felt like the only one- even though he got a feeling in his gut that it was the most dangerous one- until he literally forgot what the second option was. He knew there was one, but he couldn’t seem to put his finger on it.

“Hey, hey you up there, I’m a police officer!”

Sam looked around, not seeing the source of the voice and 90% sure that it wasn’t directed at him. Police officer- one of the women who went missing, Cybil Bennett. But who the hell was she yelling at?  
Suddenly he heard the sound of gurgling moans, and a demand from another female voice, a different one.  
“Shoot it!”  
“Stay where you are! Stop!”

Sam looked up at the sound of gunfire, whipping out the sawed-off he’d brought with him and dropping his duffel on the ground, pumping it. That sounded like trouble, the kind of trouble that he was accustomed too. The shots continued and he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw a woman dashing past him with her wrists cuffed behind her back, running for all she was worth away from something- something that the other woman was shooting at.

“Wait!” he called out, but she didn’t pause, didn’t even turn her head. She just kept running.

He debated for a moment if he wanted to chase after her, but hearing the grunts and hissing gurgles in the opposite direction decided against it. The other woman, the cop, was in trouble, and she was fighting off something that a regular pistol wasn’t gonna do a damn thing to, if his hunch was correct.  He ran towards the sound of running feet, a woman with short hair running and firing at a gaggle of armless creatures haphazardly, hissing under her breath.  
“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Left!” Sam yelled, hoping she’d understand. She did, veering hard to the left, still running full speed. Sam took aim and fired, cringing at the horrifying screetch the creature let out as it sprayed black liquid everywhere, smoke rising from wherever the liquid landed. The woman stopped next to him, panting and staring at his gun. He was fumbling with another set of shells, his hands shaking too hard for him to do it right.  
 _Fuck, come on Sam. You do this for a fucking living, get your shit together!_  
Truth was, he’d never seen anything like…whatever this thing was. In fact, he’d never even seen anything like whatever this thing was, outside of a movie theatre.

“What the hell did you shoot them with?” she demanded, but he wasn’t really paying attention to her- rather, he was more interested in the herd of the creatures that were stumbling towards them, and the fact that his hands wouldn’t stop fucking shaking long enough for him to load the damn gun. He grabbed her arm roughly as he turned away from the creatures.    
“Run!” he commanded, breaking into a sprint and dragging her a few feet. Her brain finally seemed to get the idea and she was running alongside him, pumping her legs for all she was worth. He almost ran past the jeep, skidding to a hault. She stopped when he bent to grab his bag, looking around nervously.  
“Are you crazy?” she hissed, “Come on!” She was already side stepping away from him, prepared to bolt if it came down to him or her- and he could definitely respect that. Good thing he could hold his own.  
He heaved the bag over his shoulder, running alongside her.  
“You’ll be glad I stopped later,” he replied breathlessly. She gave him a questioning look, but she didn’t have time to ask- or the breath.

They ran into the deserted town, their heads swivilling like owls. They needed somewhere safe- somewhere to regroup and come up with a plan. The woman looked around desperately for somewhere, anywhere they could hide, throwing her body into the wall of one of the buildings. She jerked on the doorhandles hard, letting out a frustrated grunt as she ran to the next one. He got the idea, running to the opposite side of the street and trying every door he could unsuccessfully.  
“Here!” she yelled, throwing the doors open to a barbershop and waving him over, “Come on, hurry!”  
He dashed across the street and straight thru the doors, the doors slamming shut as they both looked around.  
“Under there,” Sam said quickly, pointing.  
“Jesus Christ,” she hissed as they collapsed behind the counter, “What the fuck was that? Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck did you shoot at it to make it react like that?”

 

Sam had already whipped out his journal, scribbling furiously. He needed to keep a catalogue of the creatures they were dealing with- he’d never seen anything like the armless humanoid creature that had attacked the women, spitting what he could only assume was black acid at them. But, thank god for small blessings- the salt rounds had worked.  
“I have no idea, name’s Sam Winchester, and salt rounds,” he replied quickly, his pencil moving across the page at lightning speed. In his concentration he hadn’t even used an alias- well, today was turning out wonderful. He stared down at his drawing. It isn’t perfect, but it’s something, he thought to himself as he noted what he knew about it. She glared at him, staring down at the journal.  
“You a writer or something?” she demanded.  
“No.”  
“Strong and silent type then,” she replied with a snort. He didn’t look up at her, putting the finishing touches on the thing.  
“No.”  
She stared at him for a moment then back down at the page, scrutinizing the drawing inside.  
“That’s the thing we just fought off,” she pointed out, “Why are you drawing it?”  
“I don’t know this thing. Stuff like this is kinda my job,” Sam answered honestly, “I draw what’s important, what I need to remeber. It seems pretty damn impo-“

 He froze, his hands flying up to press against his temples franticly as another vision hit him full force. It had been ages since he had one during the day, outside his dreams.

 _“The faithful must gather in judgement, for we are called upon to purify this filth.”_  
He saw the woman’s eye staring down at him, piercing blue and as cold as ice, unquenchable fear coursing through him. This woman wanted to hurt him. No- this woman wanted to hurt **her**. The girl in the blue dress, the girl who they called a witch.

Suddenly, he saw fire before his eyes, fire engulfing him, the cross-like symbol from before hovering in his vision. Sam had an uncanny sixth sense about certain things: his brother, dogs, and symbols. And this symbol, hanging in front of his eyes as he felt his flesh burning, this symbol was one word: evil.

He could hear the agonized screams of a child, the stench of charred flesh filling his nose. It hurt, god, it fucking hurt; the burning, hot, stomach twisting pain of it, the feeling of skin tightening and breaking, the smell of blood burning. He tried to move his wrist, looking and seeing nothing but black, burnt flesh, letting out a howl.

 “Hey! Kid, snap the hell out of it!”

He jerked out of the vision and back into the barber’s shop, Cybil’s hand on his arm feeling entirely too hot for his liking, even through three layers of clothes.  
“Not a kid,” Sam muttered, “23 freaking years old.”  
“And I’m 38 freaking years old, so yeah, you’re a freaking kid,” she replied, pulling his journal from his hands, “What the hell was that? A seizure?”  
Sam shook his head, willing the pounding migraine from the vision to go away- along with the smell of smoke that still lingered in his nose. He’d already given her his real name- might as well go balls to the wall with this one.  
“I’m gonna assume that if I tell you that monsters are real you’ll believe me,” he said wryly. She nodded slowly, breathing a bit shallowly.  
“That would be correct,” she said, “I didn’t even believe in the afterlife before this.”  
“It’s a brave new world,” he replied off-handedly, feeling a sudden twinge of pain. Andy. Jake. Died. Dean sold his soul…  
He shook his head quickly, gathering his thoughts.  
“Well, monsters are real, and so are psychics. And apparently, even if I don’t wanna be, I’m a psychic…even though it was supposed to stop after I…”  
“After you?” She prompted.  
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I had one.”  
“No kidding, kid,” she said, holding out the journal, and pointing at three new additions to his journal, “You kinda drew it out.”  
“Stop calling me kid,” he said as he snatched the journal out of her hands, “That’s…never really happened before.”       
“It’s a brave new world,” she replied, giving him a wry smile. He laughed, rolling his eyes.

“But thing I’m most curious about is this,” she said, tapping a hand written note at the bottom of the page, “What does that mean?”

He stared down at his own handwriting, it taking a minute to register what it said.

“It has something to do with them,” he said quietly.  
“The monsters?”  
“No. The people who burnt the girl in the blue dress. I-we can’t trust them.”


	4. Up That Hill

Dean Winchester generally reguarded himself as an even tempered kinda guy. It really did take a lot to get him pissed off or off his game- well, it was hard for just anyone to piss him off or get him off his game. It seemed like Sam was going for the gold in the little brother Olympics for the 23rd year in a row- event: disappearing while Dean was asleep.

He woke up to find the place empty- no laptop, no bag, no Sam- his blood boiling. His initial reaction was panic- did someone take him again? Did it have to do with his psychic visions- which Dean wasn’t exactly pleased to hear that he’d been hiding for whatever reason. It wasn’t as if he was exactly willing to hear that the visions were still going on, but that was something Sam shouldn’t have kept from him; and his lie at the diner was becoming even more transparent and pisspoor the more he thought about it.

“You little shit!” he hissed as he flew out of the bed, shaking the sleep from his head. He dashed from one end of the room to the other, trying to find any evidence he could. It was a good sign that his stupid journal was gone- that meant he’d probably left on his own accord- but that just meant that he’d waited till Dean was asleep to sneak out. He looked down at the table between their beds, spying a page that was obviously torn from Sam's journal, his spidery handwriting scribbled across it.   
That little fucking shit...wait, kick his ass? Yeah, he was gonna blow a bunch of fucking smoke about kicking his ass into next week, but it was all smoke. Unless...

  
“Oh, you better not have,” he hissed to himself, ripping open the door and letting out a huge sigh of relieft. The Impala was still there, thank god for small mercies, but the jeep that had occupied the last space of the motel parking lot was gone.   
“Well, at least I taught you something,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his head. No journal, no duffel, jeep gone- yeah, Sam left all by his little lonesome and of his own free will, and Dean couldn’t honestly decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.   
Dean threw everything in the car that he though he needed, heading to that stupid fucking turnoff, without his suit or fake badge because goddamnit- this was Sam, and the last time Sam disappeared he freaking died. He knew this time that Sam hadn’t been taken, but it’s a dangerous world, especially for his little brother. It felt like Sam never actually learned how dangerous the world really was, even from his stint in the special children hunger games.

Dean had decided long ago to forgo the hope that his brother would ever actually listen to him- really, fully listen- but this? This just takes the cake.

“I’m going to rip out your lungs, and then I’m gonna feed them to you,” he yelled at the empty passengers seat, “You don’t just go running off into a fucking burning town for whatever reason! What the hell is the matter with you?” He was perfectly aware that Sam wasn’t there, that Sam couldn’t hear him, but he yelled it all out anyways. There was one person that could make logic fly out the window for Dean, and of course, it was Sam. He was angry. He was hurt and, despite firmly swearing to himself that he would never let Sam know that, he was scared shitless. 

“You could be dead for all I know, and you just leave me a fucking note? Are you fucking kidding me? Notes ain't foolproof, I can imitate your handwriting easily, you ass! Anyone can, all they have to do is write like fucking shit! You could’ve been taken again, fuck, you stupid little shit!”   
He pounded his hands against the steering wheel furiously, the car jerking a bit. Dean took a deep breath, rubbing his face with one hand and gathering himself. He needed to chill the hell out before he did something impressivey stupid, he wasn’t gonna help Sam if he was freaking out like and idiot. He reached out, stroking the dashboard of the Impala lovingly.   
“Sorry Baby, not mad at you,” he said absentmindedly, his mind filled to the brim with a thousand horrors Sam could be suffering at that very moment, “That kid is gonna be the death of me,” he sighed, chuckling. But it wasn’t funny- it was the truth. Sam being alive was the death of him, and it was his choice, but still. A little gratitude would be nice, but just not the kind of gratitude that involved him running away to find a way to get him out of dying, goddamnit.

He rumbled up to the police barricade, jumping out of the car and into a damn torrentiual downpour.   
“This is great. Just fucking great,” he muttered, tromping up to the barricade and whistling at one of the officers. No one looked at him, and he took the opportunity to survey the scene- The motorcycle and the Liberty were parked side by side, and just ahead was the jeep from the motel- the one Sam stole. Dean’s heart froze in his chest, hopping deftly over the barrier and running towards the cars.   
“You can’t be here!” on of the officers exclaimed, reaching out for him, but Dean just shoved him aside.   
If he wasn’t with the Jeep, he disppeared.   
“Sammy!” Dean bellowed, dodging every obstacle- solid, liquid, human or no- and slamming his body against the jeep. He ripped open the door, tearing the place apart.   
No journal.   
No duffel.   
No Sammy.

“Detective Thomas Gucci,” said an even voice behind him, “That your jeep?” Dean could hear his heart pounding in his ears, Sam not being there beingof little to no suprise, but still making it hard for him to breathe.  
“Sam was driving this,” Dean said quickly, whirling around, panicked, “It’s not wrecked, it’s fine. Sam wouldn’t just…fucking, fucking leave the car, Sam’s smarter than that!”   
“Is Sam your girlfriend?” A tall man with blond hair asked, his collar turned up and drenched with rain. Dean shook his head quickly.   
“No, my little brother- I have to find my little brother.” The man nodded sympathetically, reaching out and shaking Dean’s hand firmly.   
“I’m Chris Da Silva- my wife and daughter, they’re missing too.”   
Dean ran through every memory of earlier that day, trying to extract some of what Sam had told him earlier, something that would be useful.  
“Rose and Sharon,” he said softly, “He was looking for them.”   
“What?” Chris demanded, “What do you mean, he was looking for them? Your brother? What did he do to my family!” Chris had Dean in a deathgrip, shaking him hard as Dean shoved him back.   
“My brother didn’t do shit! Kid wouldn’t hurt any woman or kid, not even if his life fucking depended on it, he was trying to help!”  
“All right gents, let’s simmer down here-“ Detective Gucci said amicably, only to have Dean turn on him.   
“That is my brother and his family out there, so don’t you fucking tell us to calm down!” Dean snarled.   
“Okay, okay,” Gucci said, nodding, “I know you both are worried, but I’m sure they’re just fine. Things like this happen a lot when people are driving through here, get a little turned around and then go looking for help.”  
“My brother doesn’t get turned around,” Dean muttered, “What the hell are you doing to find them? Other than standing around on this fucking bridge with your thumbs up your ass?”   
“My wife called me- the message was breaking up, like she had horrible reception, but the message was pretty clear- she said she wasn’t okay, and for me to hurry. So I’m gonna have to agree with him. What the hell are you doing to find them?” Chris said, pulling himself to his full height, folding his arms across his chest.   
“Look, we’ll take a car and go up to Silent Hill and look around for them,” Gucci replied, “I was gonna do that already but since you fellas seem awful eager to get your families back, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you come along for the ride.”   
“You’re damn fucking right we’re eager to get our fucking families back!” Dean snapped, “You got a brother, a wife, a kid? Of course we fucking want them back- no nevermind to that cop that’s missing too!”   
“How the hell do you know about that?” Gucci demanded. Dean narrowed his eyes, folding his arms.  
“That’s not your business.”  
“It sure as hell is if you don’t wanna get that snarky ass of yours tossed in the clink!”   
“My brother’s good with computers. Found your report, wanted to help find them. Cops ain’t exactly been good at this kinda stuff in our experience. He likes to help.”

Chris looked over at the younger man sympathetically, feeling a twinge of sadness. It sounded like this wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with something like this- and his reactions were suddenly quite understandable. He reached out and touched Dean’s shoulder gently.   
“We’ll find them,” Chris said firmly, “My little girl, my wife, your brother, even the cop. I’m sure they’re all together, looking out for one another. I feel a bit better knowing that your brother is out there.”   
Dean laughed bitterly, rolling his eyes and shrugging the man’s hand off his shoulder.   
“No offense man, but I’m not feelin too great about it,” he replied. Officer Gucci nodded, gesturing to the large SUV he’d come in.   
“We’re gonna head up the Hill, see what we can see,” he called out to the other officers, “Make sure no one gets past that barricade!”

Dean swung up into the SUV, looking at the jeep he had stolen pensively.

“I’m comin for ya, Sammy.”


	5. Down Time

“What are you talking about, girl in a blue dress? You mean Sharon?” Cybil demanded, “You’ve seen the little girl?”   
Sam looked up at her, confused. He was still trying to keep up with the swirling mess that was his head after a vision, still trying to keep everything straight. He took a deep breathe, trying to reorganize his mind.   
“Sam!” she snapped, reaching out and shaking his shoulder. He jerked away from the sudden intrusion on his space, batting her hand away from him.   
“Give me a second!” he snapped, “Just…give me a second. This isn’t as easy as it looks, okay?”   
Cybil gave him an apologetic pat, sighing a little. She wasn’t really adjusted to all this…stuff. She didn’t even know what to call it. _Monsters, psychics…Jesus, what else was real?_

Sam was rubbing his temples furiously, leaving twin smudges of pencil lead on eiter side. She wanted to help, but she couldn’t, and she knew it- which made her feel useless and helpless.  
Cybil Bennett was not used to feeling useless.

Cybil felt useless as a little girl, as a teenager. Helpless. The world was an awful place, and she wanted to save it- that’s why she became a cop, that’s why she took her job so seriously, even if she was just a patrol officer in a two bit town in West Virginia now.

Sam’s eyes finally opened and his hands had fallen from their original mission of digging through his temples into his skull, sighing.   
“Sharon? Isn’t that…Rose. Rose’s daughter, isn’t that her name?” Sam asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked at her, “Sharon Da Silva. The missing girl.” He nodded to himself, confirming that he was right. Cybil thumped her back heavily against the counter, groaning.   
“So she is her daughter,” Cybil said softly, “Shit. I fucked up. Shit.”   
Sam looked up, his mind immeadiately jumping to the cross, his chest queezing like someone was sitting on top of him. Calm down, she had no idea what you were even talking about, with the cross and the people. She’s talking about something else.   
“Why, what did you do?” Sam asked, “Is that why she was handcuffed?” Cybil nodded, rubbing the back of her neck.   
“Yeah- I just…we get a lot of real freaks around here, you know? This guy…kidnapped a little boy, dropped him down a mine shaft up here. I never wanted that to happen again…you can’t be too careful,” she said sheepishly. Sam nodded, licking his lips. Rose was handcuffed, which meant that unless she was particularly flexible or crafty, she was gonna have a hell of a time fighting off anything that came her way.   
“Apparently, you can,” he replied, suddenly getting sidetracked-something that seemed to be happening more and more, “The little girl, does she look like this?”   
He flipped through his journal quickly, to the drawing of the girl in the blue dress. He pointed down at the picture, a wave of fondness rushing over him just by looking at his sketch of her. What the hell was with this child?  
Cybil leaned over and nodded.   
“Yeah, that’s Sharon,” Cybil replied, “She was wearing a little jean jacket when she was in the car with Rose. Is that what you mean by the little girl in blue?”   
But Sam was shaking his head hard, confused yet again. The little girl in blue was burnt alive, he saw it, and she wasn’t wearing a blue jean jacket- she was wearing a blue school dress.    
“That can’t be Sharon,” Sam said softly, “That’s the little girl they burnt in 1974. She’d be over 40 years old by now.”   
“What are you talking about?” Cybil asked, “Why do you keep talking about a little girl that was burnt?”   
“The little girl who was burnt alive, just a few weeks before Silent Hill burnt to the ground,” he said, “The little girl they called a witch. She’s the one in the blue school dress-like a school uniform. She can’t be Sharon, you have to be wrong. But you have to know something about it- you’re a cop, I mean, shouldn’t you know about that?”

Cybil shook her head sadly, shrugging. If this woman was nearly 40 years old like Sam was claiming, then Cybil couldn’t have been out of pullups when it happened. And the whole Brahams Police Department was real tight lipped about whatever was going on with Silent Hill. They just told her it was “ancient history” and for her to pray she never had to go up there. Well, she had, to save that little boy, and now she was here again- though, with a few marked differences.

“That was long before my time. I’m not from here, I’m not too proud to admit that I took this job because it was small town and I figured it’d be easy. Most days it is. This just happens to be one of the not so easy days,” she said honestly. After a few years with Chicago PD, she couldn’t get away from the city and all of the sick people that seemed to populate it fast enough. Brahams was a nice change of pace- parking and speeding tickets, some drunk and disorderlies, a drug bust on occasion. Most times, the bigger things just broke up the tedium in her days of patroling on her motorcycle. Hell, usually she was beyond glad for any sort of break in the status quo. Just…not a break like this.   
“So you have no idea who she is? Not even a name?” Sam asked, giving her the saddest eyes she’d ever made the mistake of looking into.  She ducked her head down and away, shaking it vigorously.   
“No, I’m sorry Sam,” she said quietly, “I wish I knew.” Sam shrugged, closing his journal and wrapping the elastic band around it again.   
“It’s fine,” he said, “If I’m supposed to know, I guess I’ll find out.”  
 _Easy come, easy go,_ she thought to herself.   
“Anyways- if those people are still around, we can’t trust them,” Sam finished, giving himself a curt little nod.  Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.   
“Are witches real?” Cybil asked, the question escaping her without thinking. He gave her a dirty look and nodded.   
“Yeah, witches are real.”   
“And we can’t trust these people.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Because they burnt the little girl who they said was a witch.”  
“I don’t really go around trusting people who burn children alive,” Sam snapped, “Do you?”   
“My kneejerk reaction is hell no, but with the shit I’ve seen…what if she was one of them? One of the monsters? What if she was a witch?”  
“She was a little girl!” Sam exploded, “A scared little girl that no one understood and punished for things that weren’t her fault!”   
Suddenly, four glass bottles from the shelf in front of them flew off and across the room, shattering the dust-coated mirrors on the other side. Both of them jumped hard at the sound of the glass breaking, hands on their weapons, but no one was there. In fact, there wasn’t even any sign of the monsters that they were running from earlier. Cybil looked at him, her skin the same color as the ash that covered the streets they’d just fled. 

“Did…did you just do that?” she whispered.   
“I don’t know,” Sam said, rubbing his forehead hard, “I think..I did. I’m not even sure why I freaked out like that.”

Cybil felt shame wash over her- she was letting the situation get to her and she wasn’t thinking clearly. She was a little girl, and little girls-witches or not- did not deserve to be burnt alive. No wonder he freaked out. He probably thought she was as bad as they were. Hell, with that comment, she might’ve made him fear for his own life, which was definitely not what she wanted. He didn’t need to be watching his back with her when they already had to watch their backs against those…things.  
  
“I kinda said something shitty, I’m sorry,” she said firmly, “I didn’t mean it…just all this stuff. It’s all new. I’m trying to adjust,” she paused, smiling at him, “You must really like kids.”   
“I don’t even know any kids,” Sam said honestly, “I don’tknow what it is. I just feel…really defensive of her. Like…like I know her. Like we’re alike.”   
“Because of the psychic thing? You think she was a psychic too?” Cybil asked curiously.   
“I have no idea. I don’t even know her name,” Sam replied, rubbing his face, “Is there any way to get out of here?”   
Cybil shook her head, remembering the immense precipice that had appeared where the road that lead out of Silent Hill had previously been.  
“It’s gone. I don’t know how- but the road is just gone. Nothing but a bottomless dropoff. Rose said that it was the same at the edge of town, where the lake is supposed to be. Nothing but a cliff,” she sighed, running her fingers through her short hair, “We’re trapped, as far as I can tell.”   
“Someone’s keeping us here,” Sam said softly, “Someone doesn’t want us to leave.”   
“But who has the kind of power to just make roads disappear? Entire lakes? I mean, that seems like something only God could do.”   
“Never seen God,” Sam said, “But I’ve seen magic, and I’ve seen demons. It may be a demon.”   
“Demons?” she said, feeling a bit skeptical. Monsters, sure- she’d just seen one with her own eyes. Witches, okay, she was sitting next to a psychic so witchcraft seemed like an easy to jump to conclusion. But..demons?  
“Yeah, demons. They’re basically the worst thing that can ever happen, if you ask me,” Sam’s head ducked down, his breathing shallow, “They take everything. They trap you. They devour you whole, and everyone around you. Until there’s nothing left.” He pressed his palms against his face hard, sniffling.   
“That’s half the reason why I’m here. My brother…he’s gonna die. Because of a demon. And I thought whatever was up here might be able to save him.” He punched his leg hard, thumping his head back against the counter. “Idiot. Freaking idiot.”

Cybil felt the words dry up and crumble to dust in her mouth, gaping at him. She’d never seen a person move so quickly between apprences- on moment, he seemed to be a threatening giant of a man, one of the best shots she’d ever seen, with obvious tactical training for dangerous situations, and then, he seemed like a sad, broken, lost child. She had no idea what to do with him, what to say or do.

“Sam…”  
Suddenly, he was fine- his face a mask of concentration, calculation. She couldn’t keep up with this kid.   
“It’s fine. We have to focus. Focus on this. Focus on the now.”   
“Right,” she said, “Well, like you said- avoid those people if they’re still around- which I highly doubt. No one seems to be around,” Cybil said, jumping to her feet, “I have to find Rose.”   
“Agreed,” Sam said quickly, standing and dropping his bag on the counter they were previously hiding behind,  rummaging through it, “So, you’re gonna need some stuff.”   
“Stuff?” she asked, looking down inside as he started extracting things. She felt yet another twinge of paranoia as she realized that this bag could be full of weapons. This kid was literally driving around ith a bag that probably had the supplies someone needed to commit a murder or a kidnapping.  She watched as he dropped a ziplock bag filled with shotgun shells on the counter with a clatter, a cloud of dust rising in a huff.   
“I can’t exactly give you my shotgun or my shells, but yeah, stuff,” he replied, “Anyways, I’m going with you, so it’s not like you’ll be without it.”   
Cybil shook her head.   
“No, I’ll find Rose- you should go and look for Sharon.  If those monsters got her-“  
“I get why you’re saying that,” Sam said, loading the shotgun, “But that’s not a good idea. Safety in numbers. If we all get picked off, no one is gonna be able to save Sharon, and then she’ll be in a lot of trouble. We stick together,” he said, snapping the shotgun shut, “Did Rose tell you anything about where she was going?”   
“Yeah- she said something about the school. She said Sharon was at the school,” Cybil replied, picking up a cannister of salt and examining it, “So I’m willing to bet that’s right where she went.”   
“Good,” he replied, “Then we go to the school. But we should leave a note just incase she backtraces and ends up here.”  
“What good will that do? She doesn’t even know you’re here, and I’m not exactly a friend.”

Sam was already tearing a page out of his journal, scribbling a quick note.   
“In places like this, people are willing to trust just about anyone,” he replied, “So, we tell her where we’re going, tell her we’re looking for Sharon. I promise you, if she finds this, she’ll go right back to the school. That's why I told you we can't trust those people. Places like this make people willing to do anything to stay safe- even trusting murderous cults.”   
“You do this a lot?”  
“Like I said- it’s kinda my job,” he replied, opening the counter drawers and rummaging through them, extracting some tape, “Here- tape this to the door.”   
Cybil nodded, walking over the door and looking back at him.   
“I gotta ask- what’s with the salt?” she asked conversationally, the crackle of the tape going through the silence like a gunshot. Sam shrugged.   
“Depends on who you talk to. The first salt lore I learned about originates in Europe, that an evil creature can’t cross a line of salt without counting all of the grains. That’s basically impossible, so it’s a good detterent. Some people believe that salt symbolizes purity, so naturally that would repel unclean creatures and spirits. Others say it represents life, and then you’ve got your wiccans and other people into magic who believe salt is symbolic for semen. I mean, salt has a really long history in medicine and economics- roman soldiers were paid in salt at times. That’s where we get the phrase, “worth his salt”. Take your pick what you wanna believe about it’s magical properties,” he replied, “Buhddism, Shinto, Indigenous religions, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, just about every damn spiritual practice on Earth believes that salt can repel evil, can purify. If billions of people have believed it for thousands of years, how wrong can it be?”

Cybil nodded at the dizzying amount of information he’d just spit out, feeling like she had just listened to an encyclopedia on tape. How the hell could someone know that much about something as simple as salt? And who would want to know that much?”  
“Well, that was an interesting little history lesson,” she replied, turning back to face him.    
“I’m a total geek, I know,” Sam said, sighing loudly, “My brother takes every opportunity to remind me.”   
“And where’s he?” she asked curiously, walking back over to stand next to him.  
“Asleep in the motel room. Or, driving around looking for me and hoping to kick my ass into next week,” Sam replied, holding out a flask.   
“Thanks,” she said, opening the flask as if she were going to drink it, until Sam clapped his hand over the top.   
“That’s not for drinking,” he said seriously, “It’s not gonna do anything to you if you do, but it’s Holy Water. You might wanna keep that.”   
“Holy water? Are you kidding?”   
“Wish I was.”   
“Anything else?”  
Sam frowned, digging through the bag and moaning. _Great job, Winchester. You’re just racking up the wins today._   
“Fuck, I forgot the knives.”   
“Knives?”  
“Iron and silver. 4 things every hunter needs- Salt, Holy Water, Iron and Silver. That covers just about every base when it comes to evil.”  
“I’d ask, but I don’t think you’d have enough time to explain it,” she said jokingly.   
“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” he said with a smirk, tossing his can of salt to her, “Here. If I tell you to salt the doors and windows, you need to pour it in an unbroken like across every entrance. In a pinch, pour it in a circle and stand in the middle. Spirits and demons can’t cross it.”  
“But can’t they just blow it away?” she said, rising an eyebrow.   
“That’s why I said use the salt ring as a last resort- pouring it across doorways and windows blocks off the entrances and since there’s usually a barrier between that salt line and them, they can’t blow it away.”   
“That makes about as much sense as anything does right now,” Cybil sighed, shoving the salt into her pocket, grimacing at how uncomfortable it was. She dropped the flask in her breastpocket, feeling a bit safer with the items- even if it was just water and salt. Sam had reloaded his bag and they stood next to each other, staring out at the empty street with determination. 

“Into the devil’s playground,” Cybil whispered. Sam looked over and down at her with a teasing smirk.   
“Ladies first.”


End file.
